Well-Founded Misgivings
by Cracked Lenses
Summary: The Philosopher's Stone to the Cemetery. The common factor? Voldemort... He has haunted Harry's school life but this time it's different. It's the start of Harry's 5th year and the end of any chances for him to be normal. Voldemort has his body back and he won't just wait in the shadows as his Death Eater army grows. No. He's done waiting. Time to face transfer student Tom Riddle.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:**I'm on my best behaviour so perhaps I'll find Harry Potter under my Christmas tree… AKA I own NOTHING. TToTT

**A/N:** Hello there! Thanks for clicking this fanfic, hopefully you'll be able to stick around for the story. ;)

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><p>A summer had passed since the traumatic events of the Tri-Wizard tournament.<br>A summer plagued by night-time terrors and unspeakable happenings.  
>A summer spent almost entirely cut off from the Wizarding World.<p>

Upon Harry's return to the magical side of Britain, he had fared no better-some might even say worse.

No, Harry James Potter had been declared 'mentally unstable', 'delusional' and was condemned a pathological liar by the Daily Prophet. Then he'd been required to stand trial after using magic to save his, and Dudley's, hides from a rogue Dementor! It was all very disheartening.

But, then again, if you were to look back at Harry's life and slot this into the grand scheme of things, this was all pretty much the norm, not exactly a _major_ cause for concern.

This was.

At this very moment Harry sat at the Gryffindor Table in the Great Hall, and his life had just gotten a great deal more complicated. Correction, more complicated than it already was-if you could believe such a thing. The complication as it were, could be found sitting rather comfortably with the fifth year Slytherins, but he was most decidedly _not_ a 5th year Slytherin-despite what any of the Professors said.

No, the dark haired boy, which, for all intents and purposes, looked not a day over 15, a year younger than Harry had last seen him, was simultaneously sticking out like a sore thumb and seamlessly fitting in with the rest of the snakes. Harry couldn't help but stare, dread unfurling like a giant, lumbering snake in the pit of his stomach-the irony of his analogy did not escape him and he would've laughed in any other situation, but, to be honest, he half expected the teal eyes to flicker into an angry red.

But they didn't.

Yet.

No, Tom Marvolo Riddle, the transfer student from Durmstrang, was acting as though he had every right to be seated at the silver and green table. He didn't. Well, he was the heir of Slytherin but that was beside the point! Surely that didn't mean he was allowed to just, I don't know, _waltz_ into Hogwarts and do as he pleased. Honestly, the nerve of some Dark Lords! Couldn't Harry ever have a nice, normal year like everyone else?

Harry shook his head as he tucked into his dinner. He really wasn't hungry, seeing Riddle had completely destroyed his appetite, but he _really_ did not want to make Hermione worry about his eating habits-he was not a skeleton thank you! Safe inside his head, Harry turned back time and relived the events which had promised him one screwed up year. Maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to figure out what Riddle wanted. But by Merlin he didn't have an optimistic outlook on Riddle's reason for ruining his school year. Again.

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><p>It wasn't every day that Hogwarts received a transfer student. In fact, it hardly ever happened. In all his years at Hogwarts, this was the first transfer Harry had witnessed. For all Harry knew it was an unprecedented event, but he'd have to check with Hermione just to be sure.<p>

Instead of the first years being lead into the Great Hall and getting sorted into their Houses, this year the Sorting Ceremony started with Professor McGonagall introducing a 5th year transfer student from Durmstrang. The doors of the Great Hall swung open and a tall, dark haired boy seemingly glided into the Great Hall like he owned the room itself. Girls sighed, boys groaned, and Harry felt the strangest sense of recognition but he couldn't put his finger on where he'd seen the boy before. The only person who popped into mind was Voldemort, except Harry was always thinking about Voldemort so that wasn't exactly helpful.

"Tom Riddle," Professor McGonagall called out.

Their reaction was instantaneous. Harry's eyes widened and Ginny gasped. A cold bead of sweat slid down Harry's back and a shiver ran down his spine as his vision blurred. '_Tom Marvolo Riddle,_ I_ am _Lord Voldemort,' his mind hissed traitorously.

His thoughts were interrupted as the Har yelled, "SLYTHERIN!" No surprises there.

As Riddle made his way toward the spot the other fifth year snakes had made for him, all Harry could think was, '_Why me?_'

And with a dark sense of foreboding, he got the feeling he'd be thinking that a lot this year.

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><p>Nothing. He had nothing. Harry didn't have the foggiest idea as to what the Dark Lord was doing here at Hogwarts, but he was going to work it out. Hopefully.<p>

The Gryffindor table was uncharacteristically quiet, as if the entire House somehow knew that something was wrong. Harry could see that Ginny had gone into shock and the twins had repositioned themselves so they were beside their little sister trying to comfort her. Harry couldn't help but feel guilty, it wasn't his fault that Voldemort was here but if he'd managed to kill Voldemort at the graveyard then none of this would have-could have happened.

Harry was so wrapped up in his own thoughts he almost didn't notice that Seamus was adamantly avoiding looking in his direction. Almost.

"Hey Seamus, how was your summer?" he asked brightly.

Seamus looked at Harry, he managed to hold the stare for about half a second before he averted his gaze, "...Good, I guess," he said eventually.

Uh oh, this was not good. This was even weirder than seeing the Evil Dude at Hogwarts! Wait, how did he get into the school? Weren't there wards or something to prevent stuff like this from happening? Harry groaned loudly, somehow Voldemort had managed to enter Hogwarts, despite the wards, right under Dumbledore's nose! Now wait a damn second, why by Merlin's bald patch had Dumbledore _let_ Riddle attend? He definitely knew Riddle was Voldemort, it made no sense!

Seamus' expression as he looked up as Harry groaned could only be described as guilty. Harry felt a pang of unease, what on Earth had happened? Seamus might not be his best friend, the way Ron and Hermione were, but he was still a friend. Living together for the better part of the year for four whole years could make anyone friends. Heck, if Harry had ended up sorted into Slytherin and had been stuck with Malfoy, he'd probably be friends with the ferret! And that was saying something.

But back to what he was saying, well thinking, Seamus was always together with Dean, laughing away. In a sense, they were the Weasley twins of their grade and this newfound stoicism was most peculiar. Frankly speaking, Seamus was acting strange.

"Shay? Something wrong?" Harry finally asked.

Seamus grunted distractedly into his food.

Harry's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "Did I do something wrong?"

At that, Dean looked up from his own heaped plate and looked at Harry in alarm. Uh oh.

Seamus carefully put down his knife and fork before shooting a dark glare at Harry. Dread began to pool once more in the pit of his gut, maybe he shouldn't have pried?

"I'll tell you what's 'wrong'," Seamus scowled.

Ron turned away from his sister, who looked more than a little frazzled, and Hermione put her potato salad aside. They were sending Harry some seriously bad vibes. Harry had half a mind to get up and run straight out of the Great Hall.

'_Why me?_' he thought for the second time that evening.

"You!" Seamus growled.

Harry blinked owlishly, "Huh?"

If looks could kill Harry would probably be in a pool of blood right now, but then again he'd have been dead years ago if it only took looks to kill.

"Y'know my mum almost didn't send me back to Hogwarts this year."

Harry's eyes widened, "What! Why?"

His mouth contorted into a twisted smile, "Because not only is the Headmaster barmy, but one of my Housemates is a delusional attention seeker!"

The Great Hall had fallen silent. One of the new members of staff, a toad dressed in a ridiculous amount of pink was muffling a girlish giggle into her goblet.

Harry saw red, and no, not the red of his House, though it was an eerily similar shade. When he finally found his voice it was painfully calm-almost unnaturally so, "Oh? I'm sorry Seamus, it would seem you and your…mother have been reading the drivel in the Daily Prophet. Maybe you'd like to explain what happened to Cedric if Voldemort didn't kill him?"

Seamus stayed silent.

"Perhaps you think _I _killed him then? Now that's an idea. A stupid idea, but an idea nonetheless," Harry was beyond fury, he expected people who didn't actually know him to believe what was printed in the Prophet, not Seamus. Not his friends.

"It could be true," Seamus said defiantly, he wasn't in Gryffindor for nothing.

The calm gave way to boiling rage, "If you honestly believe that Seamus then you and your stupid mother are idiots!"

"Don't you dare talk about my mother like that!"

"Oh sorry, it's just you're saying I'm lying about the return of the man, no the monster, who killed mine!"

Dean put his hand on Seamus' shoulder, and Hermione placed hers on Harry's shoulder. Harry couldn't remember standing up. Still breathing hard, Harry sat back down, and turned his attention back to his food. His appetite was even more diminished than it had been before. Seamus on the other hand dove straight back in with a renewed gusto. Harry felt sick.

"Just ignore him mate," Ron said. Harry could see the disgust and sheer fury in Ron's eyes and he knew without being told that it was directed at Seamus. He let a small smile filter onto his face as Hermione shot Seamus a withering glare. He was lucky to have such good friends. From being a freak to having the two best friends you could ask for, Harry was happy to be back at Hogwarts. Of course then he had to look up and make eye contact with the bloody Dark Lord who was smirking away at the Slytherin table.

Why me?

The rest of the feast was a quiet affair- except for that whole skifuffle over the last of the treacle tart. But that was a common occurrence at regular dinners, not just at feasts. Only then it could be about anything. Once it had even been over porridge! Okay, that's not exactly true, but it _did_ happen on a regular basis-although it was usually about the last of the desert. Last year, with all the foreign cuisine it had been even more of an occurrence as they all fought over food that looked familiar or, in some cases, a particularly disgusting French delicacy that the Beauxbaton girls favoured.

As most of the student body finished their meals, conversations finally filled the Great Hall in a pleasant buzz. Finally the last of the plates were scraped clean, and Dumbledore rose to give his usual, well unusual, start of year speech. Which Harry, and everyone else except the ickle firsties, ignored.

Then something odd happened. The pink toad made a pathetic "hem hem" and gave a speech as well-another speech that although most students tried to pay attention to simply because the idea of someone interrupting Dumbledore was absurd, most ended up ignoring as she droned on and on. Harry didn't even try to listen to the toad, if it was important Hermione would be able to explain the interesting bits. No, instead Harry stared at the Dark Lord of Farts(Insulting the monster from the safety of his own mind was oddly refreshing), and it was actually rather amusing. Initially Riddle had an amused smirk toying at the edges of his lips, but slowly his eyes darkened and his mouth hardened into a scowl. The scowl itself didn't last so much as a second before the alleged 15 year old smoothed his expression into a fixed smile. Creepy with a capital 'C'.

Eventually the woman, Umbridge, finished. By that point Harry was just about ready to fall asleep. It only took a single glance at Hermione to jolt him back into alertness. Hermione looked beyond furious. So not only had Umbridge enraged Voldemort but also Hermione?! Joy, she was going to be a right rotten Defence Professor. Well, besides for Professor Lupin, all of their Defence Professors had been downright horrible-or outright evil. To be honest, Harry wasn't quite sure which he preferred.

"What?"

Hermione whipped her head around to glare at Ron, "Honestly, weren't you listening?"

Ron shrugged. She should know better by now than to expect either of them to bother to listen to a lecture, and a boring lecture at that.

Hermione groaned in frustration, "Of course you didn't."

Harry wisely kept it to himself that he hadn't the faintest as to what was so important about Umbridge's lecture. Hadn't it just been about progress and what-not?

Hermione took a breath, probably to steel herself for some lengthy explanation, before continuing, "Basically…"

Harry leaned forward.

Hermione closed her eyes and in a cross between a voice of sheer hopelessness and utter fury she said, "The Ministry is interfering at Hogwarts."

Harry snapped his fingers leaning back, "That's where I recognised her from!" he exclaimed, "She's the Minister's Undersecretary-she was at my Hearing!"

Ron snorted, "How the bloody hell did you forget about all that pink?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "That's even worse though, the Ministry shouldn't be interfering here," she said darkly.

It was on that sombre note that Dumbledore dismissed the student body and each House made their way to their respective common room.

The Gryffindor Tower awaited them.

Due to the P's pinned to their chests, Hermione and Ron had to awkwardly wave goodbye to Harry as they helped the Gryffindor first years to their new home.

Harry couldn't help but grin as he heard Ron's voice calling out, "Hey all you First year Midgets! Gryffindor Firsties follow me!"

Shaking his head as he laughed silently, he ran to catch up with Neville as the two of them opted to take a slightly longer, yet undoubtedly less crowded route to the Tower.

By the time they arrived outside the Fat Lady's Portrait, Harry knew more about the Mimbulus Mimbletonia than he had ever wanted to and Neville had learned more about Muggle weeds than he'd thought was worth knowing.

Harry and Neville shared a mutual interest in plants, even if Harry didn't enjoy the task of de-weeding his Aunt's garden, it didn't mean he couldn't appreciate nature. It was always fun to talk garden with Neville who knew so much about Wizarding plants, which were a far cry from their muggle counterparts. It was one thing to read a boring book on herbology, and something new altogether to hear an enthusiast explain why a specific plant is brilliant.

As they clambered through the portrait hole, Neville whispered, "Welcome home Harry."

Harry's smile widened, "Thanks Nev."

Neville smiled before ducking his head bashfully and muttering something about Trevor before rushing upstairs.

Hermione and Ron had commandeered one of the comfortable red sofas that littered the Common Room. Harry gave a little wave before heading over and settling down comfortably in the spot they vacated for him. They ended up sprawled lazily over each other in a strange mass of limbs that somehow, possibly through magic, worked as they stared into the dancing fire in silence for a good few minutes.

"Merlin today's been weird," Harry eventually yawned.

"Hopefully this year won't be too bad, we've got OWLs, remember?"

Ron laughed, "Relax 'Mione! Those are ages away!"

"That's the mentality that'll bring in the As."

"You say that like As are bad."

"You should try for an O, you might surprise yourself you know."

"Did either of you see Hagrid?" Harry interrupted not rudely.

They frowned, "No, but Dumbledore didn't mention anything about him so maybe he just couldn't make it to the feast?"

"I hope he's alright."

"I'm sure he's fine, it is Hagrid after all."

"I can't believe I didn't notice earlier."

"Relax mate, you've had it rough, Hagrid isn't going to be offended that you were too freaked by You-Know-Who to worry about him, he's a big boy, he can take care of himself."

Slowly the Common Room cleared out and the trio couldn't help but yawn.

"Good night," Hermione said mid yawn as she disentangled herself and heading up the stairs for the Girl Dorms.

"You too 'Mione."

"Sweet dreams."

With that, the two teenagers also headed up to their own waiting beds. Luckily Seamus was asleep so there wasn't another confrontation. Bidding good night to Neville who was staring at his beloved pot plant, Harry slid into bed and slowly drifted off into the land of dreams…

But this was Harry Potter and Harry Potter could never catch a break. Even his dreams were a sordid affair.

_"Kill the spare…"_

Harry's mind filled with the sickly green glow of the killing curse and -

"Hello Harry."

The scenery changed in a sudden snap, not a soft transition at all. This new room had walls lined with shelves, cradling thick manuscripts and tomes, a carved oaken desk where a strange metronome ticked away, dark wallpaper with an interesting celtic pattern working up from the floor to the ceiling. The room itself was a masterpiece.

But what drew Harry's gaze, like a moth to an open flame, was a man lounging on an armchair before an ornate, roaring fireplace. He was using the term 'man' rather loosely, 'monster' would be a more apt description of the serpentine features of Lord Voldemort. The man-monster was smiling liplessly as he sipped on something that if Harry had to guess was probably red wine. Probably.

For half a moment Harry let himself believe that this was just a dream. But it wasn't. The monster in front of him was not a figment of his imagination, if the throbbing of his scar was any indication. Panicking internally, and who could blame him, Harry couldn't help but hope he just had a headache. It didn't help his unravelling sanity that Voldemort looked like he had every right to be lounging here in the confines of Harry's mind. In his dreams.

"Why me?" Harry groaned.

Voldemort laughed coldly, "Why Harry, I thought you knew! It's because you're special. Or not. Maybe, just maybe, it's because you're a freak like me."

"I'm nothing like you!"

"Oh Harry," the Dark Lord crooned as he stood and approached Harry.

Harry tried to back away but before he knew it his back hit the wall and he was pinned there by Voldemort's dangerous gaze. It was as strong as any physical hold.

"We're more alike than you'd care to admit," Voldemort placing a spidery hand onto Harry's shoulder.

Harry recoiled as if burnt. This could not be happening.

But it was.

Voldemort sighed as he backed away. Harry let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

"Perhaps you'll be more welcoming if I looked like…" his face shifted into the less creepy, but still horrific, face of the fifteen year old Tom Riddle, "This," Riddle finished.

"What do you want from me?" Harry dared to ask.

Tom Riddle's face was suddenly mere inches from Harry's own. "Everything," he hissed as his eyes flickered from teal into scarlet.

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><p><strong>AN:** Ooooh… a minor cliffie! BWHAHAHAHA! *Ahem* I mean, what did you think about the chapter? Just a quick question for you, as a first time fanfic author I have some confusion over this mysterious realm of authoring… This chapter's question is (and it gave me a headache trying to publish): Why are Tom Riddle Jr. and Voldemort classified as separate characters and who should I tag?

Please feel free to drop a line about what you thought about this chapter-good and bad. I'd love to hear from you! XD

**Update:** Thank you so much for the explanations! I have seen the light (Or should I say Dark ;D)!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Hello! Here's the second chapter. I hope you enjoy it! XD Also a HUGE thank you to everyone who reviewed, I really appreciate the feedback. Well if you can survive another chapter I'll see you down the bottom!

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><p>Harry swallowed. Riddle might be easier on the eyes than his Voldemort counterpart, but he was still just as innately terrifying. Slowly, achingly slowly, the other teenager, who really wasn't a teenager, raised his hand and touched. No. <em>Caressed<em> the lightning bolt his curse had carved into Harry's forehead.

Then he spoke. Riddle's voice was rich whereas Voldemort's was cold. It was hard to match someone who seemed so human to the name 'Voldemort'.

"So Dumbledore believes that your mother's love and _sacrifice_ saved you, does he?

"How did-"

Riddle rolled his, now teal, eyes, "Did you think I was in your head for you witty conversation?"

Harry recoiled as if struck as understanding hit him right between the eyes. Riddle could read his mind. _Riddle could read his mind. _

Sirius was in danger.

"Calm down Harry," Riddle drawled, "I'm not interested in Black."

Harry blinked away his confusion, "Then what are you interested in?"

"Not what. Who," Riddle whispered.

Harry inhaled sharply, "What do you want from me?"

"At the moment I just want to know everything."

"Everything about...?"

"You," Riddle said with a smirk, "You're very interesting Harry. After all, you defeated the Dark Lord as a baby."

"My mother-"

Riddle's face twisted into an ugly scowl, "You idiot of a boy! Do you truly believe that out of the hundreds of children _I_ murdered only your mother loved you enough to die for you?"

Harry remained silent, that did sort of make sense.

"Of course it made sense. You couldn't really have thought that little Lily was the only mother who would die for her child and that her love had magical properties able to defeat _me_, the Dark Lord, at the height of my power!"

"Then what?" Harry said frustrated.

"If I knew you would already be dead."

Harry's eyes widened, the worst part was that Riddle- no, Voldemort, wasn't bluffing .

"Despite my flaws, I don't make idle threats."

"So you admit you have flaws," Harry shot back quickly in an attempt to hide how disconcerted he was about Riddle hearing thoughts.

Riddle shifted uncomfortably, "If I didn't have any flaws I'd have taken over Britain by now."

"So that's what you want, world domination? Not exactly creative if you ask me."

Riddle laughed. It wasn't the cold, high-pitched cackle Harry had heard before, but instead it was a warm, rich sound.

"Oh Harry," Riddle said breathlessly, "It's been a long time since I've laughed like that."

"What? Haven't you looked into any mirrors recently?"

Riddle giggled.

It was altogether an unnatural sound.

It was also very contagious and Harry struggled to stop his own laughter from escaping him.

"You didn't say," Harry pointed out once he'd managed to get his laughter under control, "Do you want to take over the world?"

Riddle shook his head slyly, "I'm not going to tell you want I want. If I do, it won't be a surprise when you get it for me for Christmas."

"Yeah… I'm not killing myself."

"Damn! I thought you cared!"

"What? About you? Don't be silly Riddle." Harry had a feeling he was walking a very dangerous line with the monster he had previously been joking with. But Harry was a Gryffindor and he prided himself on his complete disregard for his own wellbeing.

"Hurry up and let's just get this over with," Harry chose to say flatly.

Riddle stopped smiling.

Uh oh.

"These little meetings of ours can go two ways Harry. We could play nice or we… won't. Choose carefully Harry, we might be in your melon, but I run the show now and either way I am going to be… entertained."

Harry had a feeling Riddle's idea of entertainment wouldn't line up with his own.

Harry swallowed, "So either I'm your new pet or you're my worst nightmare?"

"Yes, that sums it up nicely," Riddle said brightly as if he wasn't talking about potentially torturing Harry.

Harry didn't exactly have a choice, so with only a little sigh he asked, "So what do you want to do to pass the time?"

Riddle's smile could only be described as the smile a shark would give before snapping up a fish whole. And Harry had no doubts that he was the fish in this analogy. "I was thinking we could, oh I don't know, talk about your life."

"Oh," Harry said feigning indifference and resolutely _not_ thinking about how bad that would be.

Riddle hummed, "I feel like playing therapist."

"I don't need a therapist," Harry said harshly. He could feel his heartbeat speed up in his chest.

"I think that reaction speaks for itself," Riddle said with a playfully dark smile, when Harry remained silent he continued, "Come now Harry, that's not very nice."

Harry did not care that he wasn't being nice. Really, this was ridiculous, why was Voldemort saying that _Harry_ wasn't nice. Harry met Riddle's eyes. It was harder than he'd thought it'd be. Also just as a side note, Riddle was pouting which was ridiculous.

"I would be okay with anything, and I mean anything but this," Harry didn't exactly think Riddle was going to value his opinion but hey a guy could hope, right?

But it would seem that it had not swayed Riddle an inch, "Now you've made me curious."

Harry shut his eyes. He could not do this.

Riddle sighed, "Perhaps we can discuss the Dursley's at a later date then."

Harry smiled in relief, "Perhaps."

Riddle smirked, "Oh you poor delusional boy."

Seemingly out of nowhere, an old copy of the Daily Prophet materialised into Riddle's waiting hands.

Harry glared at the stupid smiling face of the other 15 year old, "Get rid of that."

"Hm? Get rid of what?" Riddle said blinking in innocent confusion.

"It's my dream so get rid of the bloody Prophet!"

"Yes, I agree that this is your dream, but I've… rented it."

Harry groaned and gave up trying to snatch the paper from Riddle. The bastard was probably getting off on it anyway. "So I suppose you find it hilarious how nobody believes me."

"Don't worry Harry, I believe you."

"Great, at least I've convinced you that you're not dead."

"Happy to help."

"Sure you are."

"But yes, it is rather funny, isn't it? Poor little Potter, no one believes you. Not even your friends."

That stung, "You know what, I think I'd prefer the Cruciatus."

"And I am more than happy to oblige. _Cruc_-" Riddle fell silent, cocking his head to the side as if listening to something for a moment. Tucking his wand into his robes, he sighed, "Unfortunately. It's time for me to wake up. See you soon Harry!"

"Don't count on it."

With a small wave, Riddle faded away and Harry was thrust back into his nightmares. Well the graveyard nightmare, that whole Riddle thing was a nightmare in its own right.

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><p>It was barely six when Harry finally managed to tear himself free from the monsters that haunted his dreams. Groaning and feeling entirely unrested, he slid out of bed and hopped into the shower. It was easy to shift into his Hogwarts morning ritual of waking up, showering, changing and rushing downstairs for breakfast. In fact, it was soothing. He was safe here, well he was usually.<p>

It was annoying, waking up so early but early mornings were much nicer than nightmares. Harry had already been forced to explain his night time troubles to Ron and Hermione over the summer so Ron wouldn't have a heart attack when he wakes up and finds Harry gone.

At a quarter past seven Harry started to head downstairs to the Great Hall. Hogwarts was strangely quiet in the early hours of the morning. Harry wished he could sleep untroubled by dreams like his fellows. At least his lack of sleep meant he could eat his breakfast away from prying eyes.

But this was Harry Potter and although luck was usually on his side in life threatening situations, his luck never seemed to hold otherwise. Tom Riddle was sitting at the Slytherin table. The creep wasn't even pretending to eat and was instead staring. At Harry.

Harry was understandably uncomfortable as he made his way over to the empty Gryffindor table. Serving himself some fruit and cereal, Harry was already regretting his choice to sit with his back to Riddle. He'd thought it would be a good idea not to face the other teen but now an icy chill was rolling down his spine as Riddle was no doubt staring unblinkingly at Harry.

This was right up there as one of the most uncomfartable meals Harry had ever been forced to sit through.

Time slowly ticked away and Harry hadn't managed to eat so much as a single grain of his cereal. He couldn't eat as Riddle stared at him. This was ridiculous.

With a growl, directed more towards himself than Riddle, he grabbed his bowl and goblet before stalking around to sit at the other side of the table. To his immense relief, before he sat, the Great Hall was filled with soft chatter as a group of Ravenclaws entered the Hall. Recognising Luna, he gave a friendly wave. She smiled in her usual dreamy way before waving back. Sitting down, he ignored the weird looks he was attracting from the rest of the Ravenclaws. He'd had a lot of practise ignoring strange looks so the Ravenclaws didn't so much as faze him.

Besides, he could finally eat his breakfast without shuddering. Picking up a heaped spoonful, he met Riddle's eyes as if asking him to just try to stop him from eating. Challengingly he lifted the spoonful into his mouth…

_Hello Harry._

_Pssh!_ With a strangled cough, Harry choked on his cereal. Horrified he could see Riddle's lips curve into a smile. Riddle's laughter reverberated through his skull. Then Riddle winked. The Dark Lord delivered a saucy wink at him. Him.

"What the hell," Harry whispered more than a little traumatised, but Riddle was no longer paying him any attention. His focus was instead on Malfoy who was now sitting on his left. Riddle was of course charming and the idiotic ferret seemed entranced. So Harry did the only sensible thing he could do and glared at Malfoy. He wasn't really annoyed with Malfoy but it had to be easier to glare at Malfoy than mope into his bowl about how Voldemort seemed to have a limitless link with his mind.

"Hey Harry."

Harry jolted, "Hermione!"

"You look like you want to kill…" Hermione craned her neck to follow Harry's glare to the Slytherin table, "Malfoy?"

"Hermione, why me?"

Hermione smiled, "It can't be that bad."

Harry snorted into his goblet, she had no idea…

Hermione had that look on her face as she scrutinised Harry, it was that expression that always made Harry squirm. She didn't say anything though which Harry appreciated.

It was half past eight when Ron finally arrived for breakfast.

"Morning."

Hermione smiled into her tea, "You look tired."

Ron groaned as he heaped his plate, "You have no idea 'Mione, no idea."

Professor McGonagall prowled the Gryffindor table distributing the new timetables. Her usual disapproving glare was etched into her face but her lions could see her fond exasperation as she overheard their usual first day back complaints.

Staring down at Ron, she handed the trio their timetables and addressed Ron, with her usual disapproval of course, "You had better wake right up Mr Weasley. You start the year with History of Magic followed by double potions. I expect no first day back detentions, do I make myself clear?"

Ron groaned into his bacon, and Harry sighed morosely, "Why do you do this to us Professor?"

McGonagall pressed her lips firmly together and continued to hand out the timetables. She was definitely laughing inside, Harry could just tell.

* * *

><p>History was refreshingly uneventful. The Hufflepuffs didn't approach Harry and Dean had thankfully managed to position Seamus on the other end of the classroom. Ron slept, Hermione began preparing her notes and Harry strained his ears to try to hear Riddle. There wasn't the slightest whisper, Harry was half-scared he's imagined the whole thing but he hadn't. He knew he hadn't. The period slowly came to an end, Ron was slightly more alert, Hermione confident in her study plan but Harry felt even worse, a pool of dread had coiled in his stomach and wouldn't budge. Potions was going to be a nightmare. He wasn't wrong. At 10 o'clock sharp, Snape welcomed his 5th year class into the cold dungeon classroom for their first Potion Double of the year.<p>

Well he didn't exactly 'welcome' anyone, except maybe Malfoy and Riddle, but rather shot them each one of famous dark glares as he started his normal start of year insults where he questioned everyone's, well only the Gryffindor's, intelligence.

"I hope those of you who are in… dire need for improvement took the time to review and study over the summer. However, I am sure that the majority of you have decided _yet again_ to forego any supplemental studies. Or have deemed your studies irrelevant due to imagined problems."

With that, Snape stopped in front of Harry's desk, a sneer etched into the sallow face of the Hogwarts' Potion Master. But for once, Snape couldn't rile Harry up. Although Harry was by no means enjoying Double Potions with the Greasy Git, he was a bit preoccupied with the bloody Dark Lord who was talking in his head! And frankly that was going to be all Harry could focus on until he got a change to figure everything out.

_Hello Harry. How was History? I myself wish that Binns would be fired already, I mean he's dead for Salazar's sake! But then again most students, not me of course, simply sleep through his periods. Rather, I find it a useful time to prepare notes or complete assignments. _

Harry swallowed. That was sickeningly similar to what Hermione does.

_Well I just came back from Charms. Professor Flitwick is absolutely marvellous, he's much more interesting than my previous professor, of course I don't blame him, after all I did hex the poor man in first year, allegedly he only stutters when he's in front of me! Who'd have thought?_

On and on Riddle drones, Harry wanted to groan and curl up in a ball and cry. But he didn't so as not to garner any odd looks or detentions.

_Oh come on Harry! I'm not boring, and you should be happy, I'm telling you about what's going to happen in your next Charms period- you should be grateful!_

Harry responded by envisioning strangling the 15 year old Dark Lord. There was no doubt in his mind now. Tom Marvolo Riddle was out to kill him. By talking him to death.

_I'm hurt Harry! I thought you understood me! After all, I'm your biggest fan, and you're mine-barring Bella of course. But don't be jealous, she's just more of a loyal servant, but you, oh you've been the only thing on my mind for the past 15 years, and I on yours for the past 5. We should create a fan club for each other! Really, it'd be fun!_

"Harry?" Hermione whispered as she nudged him.

Harry blinked owlishly and looked away from where he'd been locked in a staring contest with Riddle. "Huh?"

"You've been staring at him for the past 10 minutes, and we have to set up this potion."

"Oh. Right. Sorry,"

"You're a bit out of it, you okay mate?"

"I'm fine, just not comfortable near _him_ if you know what I mean."

"Yeah, totally."

Riddle was silent for the rest of the period and for that Harry was grateful, but that didn't mean he wasn't worried. The large part of him was worried that this was the precursor for the mental version of the Cruciatus curse while a small, almost non-existent part of him was concerned that he'd offended the other boy when he'd told Ron he wasn't comfortable near him, and that was just wrong. He wasn't supposed to be comfortable around a psychopath!

And with that resolution firmly in mind, Harry suffered through the rest of the Double Potions avoiding Riddle completely. Thankfully, Riddle kept his wandering thoughts to himself and the period passed peacefully-well as peacefully as a potions double with Snape could.

Even so, lunch still couldn't come fast enough for Ron's liking, but it did eventually. Luckily before the ginger tried drinking the potion.

"Honestly Ronald! You are NOT drinking the Draught of Living Death just because you're thirsty!"

"Hungry! I'm hungry 'Mione!"

"How wonderful to know Mr Weasley, perhaps if I take 20 points from Gryffindor you'll keep your insatiable appetite to yourself and remind yourself not to act so foolishly in my classroom."

"Oh, uh, that won't be necessary Sir, thanks for offering?"

"Make it 40 points from Gryffindor," Snape spat acerbically.

Really it was probably for the best that the period had ended not long after that.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** So... what do you think? I'm a bit iffy about this chapter, mainly the dream. If Harry seems OOC it's because he's sleepy! XP


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey guys! Sorry about the delay (I was aiming for fortnightly releases with one week to write the next to edit) but my internet connection decided to commit suicide... Thankfully I'd gotten it to make a horcrux just in case and with a bit of blood, bone and flesh… Voila! I resurrected it, yay!**

**On a different note, a MASSIVE thank you to: ****CrystalWoolf****, ****Iesh****, ****fireycloud****, ****patches7****, ****beautyofthegrave**** and ****Guest**** for your fabulous reviews. You guys are the best! **

**And ****Guest****, here's a review reply since you're an anon: **_Thanks for the review! Um… It depends on what you mean, technically Harry is confronting Riddle in his dreams but if you mean in class/while awake they will definitely interact eventually (not this chapter but maybe in the next). If you mean does Harry ever ask Riddle what he's doing at Hogwarts, he will (eventually) but I don't expect Riddle to give a straight answer. I hope that answered your question!_

* * *

><p>Lunch was probably the only good thing about Harry's life that day. Once Ron finished stuffing his face, he tried to get Ginny to stuff her face, as older brothers were wont to do when they were worried about their younger sibling's health. Let's just say he'd resorted to some… interesting measures.<p>

"You are floating on a cloud of… of chicken! Delicious roast chicken... Can you see it Ginny? Can you smell it Ginny? Can you _feel _it Ginny?"

"Cut it out already! You can't _hypnotise_ me into wanting to eat some stupid chicken, besides, you look rather hungry yourself so it'd seem that your plan has backfired. Now just leave me alone!"

Ron shot a longing look at the nearby platter of drumsticks, but he shook his head and turned back to his sister.

"Cut it out Gin! You have to eat something-it doesn't have to be chicken. Bloody hell, you can have anything you want, just eat something!"

Ginny looked at the food and for half a second it seemed like she was going to give in and eat something but instead she flinched away as if burnt when she saw the reflection of the green and silver table from across the hall dance malevolently on the surface of a particularly shiny goblet. As if the mere thought of Riddle made her want to puke. Harry sighed, he certainly knew _that_ feeling.

"You can't make me!"

And that was when the twins entered the scene.

"Actually we can sister-"

"Dearest. See we wrote a letter, can-"

"You guess who it's for?

Ginny furrowed her eyebrows, not even faintly annoyed by the twins' peculiar way of talking, "Who's it for?"

The twins smiled wolfishly before one of them said with a gleeful smirk, "Mum."

"It's right here so eat-"

"Something, or we'll send this-"

"To her. Are you looking-"

"Forward to the Howler?"

The two cats that had definitely gotten the cream finished their not so empty threat in perfect synchronisation, "Dearest Sister?"

"I would have expected something like this from Percy-not you!" she snarled.

Fred and George didn't so much as twitch, even Ron didn't bat an eyelash at what Ginny said, which, all things considered, was rather insulting.

It was Fred and George who replied, filling the tense silence, "Percy might be a prick-"

"Haha Percy the Prick!"

"But he was always such a-"

"Worrywart. He does care Gin-"

"Really," they said together, deadly serious.

Grinding her teeth, Ginny sat down and brought a forkful of salad to her mouth. Harry had no doubts that it was the threat of a howler that had persuaded her.

A small smile lit up each of her present brothers' faces, and the faces of some unrelated lions but hey, they were practically part of the family anyway.

Unfortunately for Harry, the rest of the day wasn't as pleasant. No, after lunch everything just went downhill.

It all started when Harry and Ron bid Hermione farewell and headed off to Divination. Sometimes Harry couldn't help but feel as if the whole world was out to get him. And sometimes it was. Or at least Trelawney was. The class hadn't even begun yet when the alleged 'seer' began to 'foresee' his death.

Now, it's not that Harry was biased (okay maybe he was, but only a little!) it's just that there is no way he was going to die in such an anti-climactic way as choking on his dinner! Even so, he had been advised to take all the necessary precautions and eat carefully. But really, there was no need to panic. There was no way that Riddle would let his newest source of entertainment die so easily-or through such an absurd method.

Actually, what if he did? As in, Harry choked and died at dinner and nobody saved him? Then Riddle could and would get Malfoy to write a song mocking his death and make he'd make it Britain's new national anthem! What if even the 'good' guys in the Order found it funny? What if through Harry's death peace and unity was brought to the Magical World?

Naah, that was far too outlandish… but by Merlin's bald patch, what if?

Harry shuddered at the thought and brushed it under his mental rug. He did not need that on his mind, especially not now when there was so already so much else to worry about.

Harry spent the rest of the day 100% Riddle-free, but all too soon dinner loomed near and there was no way he could avoid Riddle then. Still Harry maintained the hope that the crazy murderer wouldn't come anywhere near the Gryffindor table, or Harry's thoughts. But in his gut he knew it was futile to avoid Riddle while he was awake. Night loomed ever nearer and once Harry went to sleep, there was no escape. There would be no way to ward off his personal nightmare.

But he could put off the inevitable.

* * *

><p>Harry had never before completed his homework the day it was given. Avoiding Ron's incredulous stare and Hermione's warm smile, Harry dove into his potions homework with a passion reserved for thwarting Voldemort. If Voldemort wanted to have a chat with Harry he was just going to have to wait; Harry was, after all, a busy high school student.<p>

It was well past midnight when Harry's eyes grew heavy even as he continued to feign interest in the different applications of herbs in sleeping potions as he edited his mini-essay. He never saw Hermione smirk wickedly to herself as she tucked her wand away, happy with her execution of a mild, sleep-inducing spell.

Harry almost didn't realise he was asleep. Really if he hadn't seen old Voldie sitting on a posh leather armchair he'd have honestly thought he was still wide awake.

He really didn't want to have to go through with this.

Voldemort on the other hand was sporting a pleased smirk, "Hello Harry."

Harry groaned and flopped onto one of the vacant armchairs, "Hi Voldie."

Voldemort's smirk vanished. "What did you just call me?"

"Hmm?" Harry said as he closed his eyes and stretched his arms over his head in a universal I'm-really-relaxed-and-not-at-all-bothered-by-your-creepiness pose.

"I said what did you just call me?"

Harry toyed with the idea of pretending to be indifferent to the nickname he'd let slip but after only a second he remembered the creep could read his thoughts. So it was with a shit-eating grin he replied, "Oh, you mean Voldie?"

"Yes I mean… By Salazar what _is_ that?!"

Voldemort sounded horrified and Harry had to hold his breath for a moment so that he wouldn't start laughing. There was something euphoric about mocking Lord Voldemort.

"It's a nickname, you don't mind do you?"

"Yes I _mind_!"

"Well too bad _Voldie_, my head, my rules."

"I thought I made it pretty clear last time that you had no say in our… night time activities."

"…I thought 'night time activities' referred to sex."

A touch of red graced Voldie's cheek and it was a while before he spoke. Harry would have filled the silence on a different occasion but he was trying not to choke on his smothered his laughter at the blush slowly spreading across the serpentine features of _Lord_ _Voldemort_.

"I was referring to our conversations!" he said in, Harry was delighted to note, a strangled squeak.

"My voice is _not_ strangled!"

Harry snickered to himself. Maybe he could save the Wizarding World by driving Voldemort insane. Or by making him blush in public so that he goes and dies of shame! But that wouldn't work… He'd just kill anyone who saw and everyone would be too scared to ever talk about it anyway. Rats. And it was such a good plan too!

Voldemort sighed and instead of addressing Harry's questionable thoughts, he popped the question.

No not 'Will you marry me?' Don't be absurd, it's only the second date but rather, "What do you like about the muggles who raised you?"

Harry had two options, one was caving in and answering the question and the other was to drag it out and hope the megalomaniac would get tired and leave him alone. Although Harry was a Gryffindor, this was one of those things that he just really didn't want to talk about, and who could blame him? Harry didn't like talking about the Dursleys to _anyone_, much less Voldemort.

Instead of answering Harry got up and wandered over to the mahogany desk that was on the other side of the room, "What's it to you?"

Voldemort didn't turn to face Harry but replied calmly, "Curiosity."

"Why so curious?"

"I told you I wanted to know everything about you, and that includes your family."

Harry hummed as he nodded and picked up a piece of parchment. On the parchment a great moose with wide antlers was depicted standing over a deformed body. It was a gruesome image juxtaposed by the innocent warmth radiating from the beasts eyes. Truly only something Voldemort's mind could create.

Harry flinched. His gaze had been trapped by the soulful black eyes of the moose for altogether too long. Fighting back a wave of nausea, Harry placed the ink sketch down with trembling hands and slunk back to his seat by the fireplace.

Voldemort smirked, "You're back?"

Harry sighed. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

><p>School never changed, Hogwarts magically retained its ordered chaos of exploding cauldrons and people, broken wands and bones and nothing, not even Voldemort had managed to change that.<p>

Harry loved Hogwarts, its chaotic peace was his home and he was truly happy to be back. His especially good mood was probably helped by the fact that he hadn't had a Gryffindor/Slytherin class yet, but that was about to change. He could only hope that Riddle kept his foul thoughts to himself.

"You okay Harry?"

"Hmm? Yeah, why'd you ask?"

Hermione shook her head, there was a slight frown on her face but Harry had no idea what had put it there, "You just looked a bit… spacey?"

Harry shrugged, "I'm just sleepy. Don't worry though, there's only one period to go so I'll be fine."

"Reckon the new defence prof is any good?" Ron butted in.

Hermione shook her head, "Fred and George already had defence, but they wouldn't tell me anything about her though, something about having to experience it to believe it."

Harry groaned, "Please don't let her be like Lockhart."

"I don't think anyone could be as annoying as Lockhart."

The trio stopped walking. The DADA classroom was still quite a while away but that wasn't why they'd stopped.

"Potter."

"What do you want Malfoy?"

Malfoy shifted slightly, but remained silent.

"We do have a class now you know."

"I just wanted to warn you…"

Harry frowned, "Look Malfoy, you're going to have to be more specific."

"Forget it," he muttered as he hurried up to the classroom.

"What was that all about?" Ron grumbled as the trio closed the distance between them and the classroom.

Hermione pursed her lips, "He looked frightened; maybe it has something to do with You-Know-Who?"

Ron snorted, "Why would the ferret warn us about his boss's evil plans?"

Harry snorted, "I can't argue with that, 'sides I doubt Voldemort could come up with something even Malfoy couldn't stomach."

"Exactly and even if You-Know-Who is planning something so bad that Malfoy can't stand it-and I'm not saying he is, Malfoy's still a coward, there's no way he'd stick his neck out for anyone."

"Honestly Ronald he didn't exactly manage to carry it through and actually say what he wanted to warn us about, that could potentially mean something _is_ going to happen."

"Maybe he just wanted to tell me that Riddle was plotting my death as usual, y'know nothing to worry about."

Ron snickered, "I love how we consider that to be something we don't have to worry about."

"Well Voldemort hasn't exactly been very successful so far now has he?"

The trio slowly entered the classroom and found three empty seats, one in front of the other, and sat down. The Slytherins had already arrived and so the trio chose seats on the other side of the room. But unfortunately for Harry, Riddle had found a seat at the back of the room and the only ones free were in the front.

He would not be able to keep an eye on Voldemort from where he sat.

The new professor was already in the classroom as well and she was wearing the same hideously pink cardigan as she had in the Welcoming Feast, with an equally horrendous black velvet bow perched on her round head. It reminded Harry of a fat black fly atop an even larger toad. Not a pleasant image at all.

"Hem hem."

The pleasant buzz of conversation faded as the fifth year class tried not to laugh at the professor's… unique method of catching the attention of the class.

Clearly, their overall vibe of disbelief was lost on the toad as she smiled to herself before drawing her wand and distributed a stack of textbooks.

"Good afternoon class!" she said expectantly.

The class stared at her in confusion as she paused.

Her sugary sweet smile twitched, "I said, good afternoon class."

Shooting each other looks brimming with confusion as smatterings of "Good afternoon" echoed hollowly in the classroom.

"Come come, I'm sure you can do better than that. Let's try again, good afternoon class."

"Good afternoon Professor?"

"That's better! As I'm sure you're all aware, I am Dolores Umbridge, your brand new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. I've looked into the teacher records and it has come to my attention that your previous instruction in this subject has been disturbingly uneven. That is about to change. You will be pleased to know that from now on, you will be following a carefully structured, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic with your new textbooks _Defensive Magical Theory_." Umbridge paused; Hermione had raised her hand, "Yes?"

Hermione frowned, "There's nothing in here about using defensive spells."

Umbridge's sickly smile faded around the edges for a moment before reasserting itself, "Using spells? Why I can't imagine why you would need to use spells in my classroom."

The class became alive with whispers. What on earth was she getting at?

It was Ron who voiced the confusion, "We're not going to use magic?!"

Umbridge smiled down at him, "You will be learning about defensive magic in a secure, risk free-way."

Ron's mouth hung open in shock.

"What's the use of that? If we get attacked and need to use defensive magic it definitely won't be risk-free!" Harry butt in.

The Professor glowered down at him, but her glare didn't hold a candle to Snape's. "Students will raise their hands when they speak in my class."

The class fell into an expectant silence, if she didn't expand on her refusal for practical magic there would be consequences-not that Umbridge seemed particularly concerned that. Perhaps that meant she was confident that nothing could threaten her position as Defence of the Dark Arts Professor. Hermione's earlier words rung in Harry's ears, _"The ministry is interfering at Hogwarts."_

Umbridge resumed speaking in the heartbeat between the ongoing silence and the upcoming storm of questions. "It is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be sufficient to get you through your examinations, which after all, is what school is all about."

"And how is theory supposed to prepare us for what's out there?" Harry shot back.

Umbridge giggled, "There is nothing out there, dear! Who do you imagine would want to attack children like yourself?"

Harry stared at her incredulously, "I don't know, maybe, Lord Voldemort!"

Umbridge clicked her tongue, "Let me make this quite plain. You have been told that a certain Dark Wizard is at large once again. This is a lie."

It was too much. The class that was supposed to teach them how to protect themselves from Voldemort was denying his very existence, _while the bugger was _in_ the classroom!_

"It's not a lie! I saw him! I fought him."

Umbridge's smile was nowhere to be seen as she screeched, "Detention, Mr. Potter!"

"So according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord?!" he shouted back.

Umbridge lowered her voice and in a semi calm voice said in a consoling voice, "Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident."

"It was _murder_! Voldemort had him killed!"

"ENOUGH!"

Harry fell silent.

"I will have order and your foolish… _fantasies_ have no place in my classroom. Detention for the week Mr Potter. I will see you at 7 o'clock sharp at my office. Don't be late."

Harry spent the rest of the period glaring into his textbook as he pretended to complete the assigned reading, but really he was trying to forget that Riddle was probably laughing at him and the other injustices in his life.

* * *

><p>Like most teenagers, Harry did not want to spend his evening with Umbridge. Heck, he'd prefer more potions homework over a session with the toad but a detention was a detention so with weary eyes he trudged up to her office.<p>

He rapped his knuckles against the hardwood door.

"Please come in."

Harry sighed one last time before schooling his face into one of calm indifference before entering the office. Hopefully if he managed to hold his tongue he'd be free to go sooner. Though then he had an evening torture session with Voldemort to look forward to… Ugh.

"Ah, Mr Potter, thank you for joining me."

Harry nodded stiffly.

"Please take a seat. You're going to be doing some lines for me Mr Potter. No, not with your quill, you'll be using a rather special one of mine. Now, I would like you to write, 'I must not tell lies.' Do you think you could manage that?"

Harry gritted his teeth as he nodded, "How many times?"

Umbridge's smile was faintly demonic, "Let's see… As long as it takes for the message to… sink in."

"You haven't given me any ink."

"Oh you won't be needing any ink."

* * *

><p>A sharp shooting pain arched through Harry's hand. He let out a soft gasp. Engraved into the back of his left hand, just below his knuckles was a line identical to the one he had just scratched onto the page. The 'ink' was a dark burgundy. The same rich colour of the blood oozing from his hand. This was no simple detention.<p>

At his gasp, Umbridge looked up from where she sat at her desk, "Is there something wrong Mr Potter?"

Harry hesitated as he stared unblinkingly at his hand. He shook his head.

Umbridge smile was sickly, "That's right. Because deep down you know that you deserve to be punished. Don't you Mr. Potter?"

Harry swallowed.

* * *

><p>"How was your detention?"<p>

Harry shrugged, "She just got me to write lines."

Ron snorted, "Lucky, if you shouted at Snape he'd have you scrubbing cauldrons all night long."

Harry snickered, "Yeah well apparently Umbridge is more bark than bite. Anyway I'm pretty tired so I'll head upstairs now. Night guys."

"Wait."

Harry grimaced as he turned around, "Yes Hermione?

"We have that mini-essay from Potions due tomorrow so unless you want double detentions you should probably do that first."

Harry tried not to let his relief show; it was rare to get anything past Hermione, "I did that last night, remember?"

Ron shook his head ruefully, "Doing your homework the day it was given? Really Harry mate, I worry about you sometimes."

"I think it's a wonderful thing Ronald and look, Harry doesn't have to panic over his homework unlike a certain someone."

Harry shook his head at the duo before lazily waving his hand (his right hand) in farewell and heading upstairs. Although he didn't want to have to spend the night with Riddle, it'd be more beneficial to his health if he didn't garner Hermione and Ron's attention about the detention. They would be furious. Voldemort was nowhere near as scary as those two could be.

It was with that in mind that Harry tucked himself into bed painfully early.

* * *

><p><em>Liar… Liar… LIAR! Cho's tear streaked face… How could you let him d- You should be the one who was dea- Seamus glare was filled with hate… Almost didn't let me come to- Delusional. Poor little Potter… Even your friends don't believe you…<em>

_**I MUST NOT TELL LIES**_.

"Sweet dreams Harry?"

Harry panted pathetically at Riddle's feet, "You could say that though I'd disagree."

Riddle tilted his head back as he laughed, "Oh Harry you really do make my nights so very pleasant."

"Wish I could say the same," Harry shot back as he pulled himself off the ground and into the waiting armchair.

Riddle sat in the one opposite him.

Neither of them spoke. The only sound was the metronome ticking away in the background.

It was not the comfortable silence shared between friends but the tense silence shared between foes. Harry didn't want to talk to Riddle, he never did, but strangely Riddle was not interrogating him. The rhythm of their nights was shattered.

Who knows how long they sat there in silence, with Riddle's heavy gaze pinning Harry to the armchair before Riddle spoke.

"We were discussing your living family last night, your Aunt, Uncle and Cousin. Shall we spend this evening talking about the dead?"

Harry stopped breathing. With a shallow gasp he looked at Riddle in confusion, "My parents?"

Riddle nodded. Although the light illuminated his face perfectly, it felt like he was shrouded in shadows. Where had that question come from?

"Well I've never met them so there isn't much to say."

Riddle twisted his mouth into a vampiric smile, "So? You seem confident that they love you. I'm just curious, where does that confidence come from?"

"They're my parents! Of course they love me."

"How can you be sure?"

"They died trying to save my life!"

"Dying to save an innocent child… Most heroic types would do that for strangers they'd never met before."

"I saw them in the grave yard when our wands linked, they said-"

"How. Can. You. Be. Sure."

"What do you want me to say!?" Harry exploded as he shot up.

"I want to know where you get your confidence from. Why are you so _sure_ that they love you? That they are proud of you?"

"I don't-they're my parents-of course they love me!"

"So by the simple fact that James and Lily created a little Harry one night means that they love you? Unconditionally?"

"Yes?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

"Telling you. They love me."

"Such confidence… And you're saying that this confidence is from that little chat you had in the graveyard during our Priori Incantatem?"

Harry nodded.

"And that little conversation was enough for them to hear your life story and tell you that despite everything in your life they love you?"

Harry remained silent.

"Aah, now I wonder… Is it confidence grounded in facts or in delusions?"

"I'm not crazy. My parents love me."

"I'm not saying they don't. For all I know they do but how are you so sure? _That_ is what I want to know."

Harry's face was contorted into one of confusion and loss. How was he sure?

"I'm waiting, how can you be so sure?"

"I have to believe that they love me…"

"Go on."

Harry looked up from his hands, meeting Riddle's eyes with his own eyes framed with hopelessness. His brain must have been switched off because he felt his mouth open and the terrifying truth trickled out, "If they don't love me then why am I alive? If they don't love me then they must hate me for being the reason they died. How can I live with that on my conscience? I need to believe that they love me or I'll go mad."

"Why?"

Harry stared at Riddle's impassive face at a loss, "What?"

"Why would you go mad if you found out they didn't love you?"

Harry didn't reply straight away. He didn't want to reply at all but he was tired. He'd had enough torture with Umbridge, he didn't want a follow up with a session with Voldemort. Besides, he had never let himself think about this before. It was weird actually talking to Riddle about it but it was true, he didn't know if his parents loved him. He had to blindly hope they did.

"If I didn't live believing they loved me then I'd be dead. I'd be dead inside. The thought of their love kept me going when I lived with the Dursleys and then again whenever Hogwarts and the rest of the Magical World turned on me. Without their love as my security blanket I'd be a monster. A washed out version of myself. Someone who believes themselves to be unworthy of love, of affection."

Riddle's impassive mask blinked out of existence for a heartbeat. It was too brief for Harry to see what was revealed.

"You are a very sorry child."

"I don't want your pity."

"Perhaps you need it."

"Why would I need _pity_?"

Riddle's mouth quirked up into a smile, "Perhaps to stay my hand should the desire to kill you arise."

"You've been trying to off me for years. I'll take my chances."

"Again with the confidence. Perhaps it could be said that you are guilty of hubris thinking yourself above Death."

"Not above Death, just above you."

"Funny."

"I'm not laughing."

"No, but you are crying."

"What?" Harry reached a hand up to his cheek where sure enough a bead of moisture had tracked its way down from his eye.

"Hmm."

"This never happened. Never."

"Don't want the world to know that thoughts of your parents can bring tears to your eyes?"

"I am _not_ crying."

"My mistake, there's probably just dust in the air, right?"

"Obviously."

Riddle shook his head in fond exasperation, "Well then I'll bid you goodnight Harry, I hope your dreams are enjoyable."

"I hate to be the one to tell you but we definitely have differing views on enjoyable, for me to have an enjoyable dream I wouldn't want to be torturing anyone."

"Then how do you unwind? I assure you there is nothing more relaxing than the screams of someone under the Cruciatus, and nothing as satisfying as being the reason for their screams."

"And that is why you're evil."

"I take offence at being referred to as evil like a common criminal."

"My apologies Oh Lord of Darkness."

"That's better-oh one last thing before I go…"

"Yeah?"

"I'm so impressed that you were so inspired by your detention that you chose to engrave your line into your hand. So very impressed. Though I must admit I am most displeased that my favourite toy is being tortured by someone who is _not_ me. I'm not altogether fond of the bitter after taste of another's torture methods. But seeing as you _deserve to be punished_ I'd be happy to help you satisfy your masochistic tendencies, there's no need for Professor Umbridge's involvement…

Goodnight Harry."

* * *

><p>With a muffled gasp Harry lurched out of the dream and into the present. Riddle's words rang in his ears. Nothing good would come out of Riddle's jealously of someone else torturing him. Harry muffled a hysteric giggle into his hands. Riddle was going to help him with his Umbridge problem because he was <em>jealous<em>.

Jealous that someone else was torturing him.

It was rather sick actually. But its creepiness didn't change the fact that Riddle was going to be doing _something_ and Harry had no doubts in his mind that he was not going to like Riddle's method of removal.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: H****ere's a question for you my dear readers… Is there anything in particular ****you**** want to see happen? I can't make any guarantees (LV and HP practically write themselves) but if I can I'd be delighted to include a character or scene you'd like to see! **

**On a completely irrelevant note, Happy New Year! **


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